I'll Keep You Warm
by Odeveca
Summary: A Lucien and Jesminda centered fic. ONE-SHOT.


**I'll Keep You Warm.**

* * *

When Jesminda finally gets started on the way back home, her feet are burning with each step she takes, and her drowsy mind far too active to allow her to find peaceful rest on this bright starry night in the Autumn Court.

 _It's his fault_ , Jesminda tells herself as she walks down the beaten path beside the culprit.

It's not like she is berating him for it, but she still blames him. Instead of telling him so, the Lesser Fae female finds herself grinning like an absolute fool after three cups of sweet wine from his goblet, and he too is doing the same whenever their eyes meet under the cool and soothing light of the moonlight.

"Stop it." She reminds him, darting ahead the mud path, and he easily keeps up with his own abused and bare feet.

The dancing and twirling on the dance floor was fine experience, especially with a dancing partner like him.

Jesminda had condoned it at the start of this night and felt no guilt by the end of it. It was expected to dance for a High Fae marriage, necessary even, but the three hours walk and conversation down the beach and back was a bit too excessive for one night. How easy time went by with him. He made it effortless, making every story she shared seem exciting to her otherwise simple country life she had first thought it to be. His praise for the passion and spark she had for life had not escaped his notice, and she could see that little did when it came to her.

He seemed to truly care what her opinion was… of everything.

It was refreshing. If it wasn't his problem with staring like a love-struck fool, Jesminda would already have pegged him as the Fae of some female's dreams, and yet she was reminded of his _stupid_ comments, about soulmates and destiny, as he stared deeply into her eyes as if she was the one he spoke of. She had to keep herself from laughing at his expectant face, despite how sweet the sentiment was… _Jesminda was not that type of female._

 _"I am no one's mate, I am my own female, I am here to have a good time, and not make promises to a horny male."_ She had declared boldly, hoping it would scare him off, but surprised when it had the opposite effect.

She looked over to him, and he was doing it again. "Stop looking at me like that Lucien."

"Like what?"

Lucien was playing stupid, and she knew how smart he was. _She heard how smart he was with his other conquests_. _Stupid High Fae Lord's son, probably thought the sun shone out of his ass._ Jesminda narrowed her eyes, "don't think I am inviting you home or anything. I am not the sort of female to let in males in that easily."

He agreed with ease. "I expect nothing less."

"You better."

But when she gets home, she feels differently. She does invite him in. Jesminda is mumbling something like he shouldn't be walking back to his Palace this late at night, he should get some rest before returning, and he makes no effort to disagree. That is where it starts.

The ease of the conversation becomes a bit more forced.

She reaches down to rub her tired feet.

After a few complaints about her feet, Lucien goes straight out the front door, a bucket in his hand, and heads behind her cottage to the stream that runs past it. The High Fae male fills her a bucket of the stream's cool water. The token he brings back is too inviting to resist, and so she pulls her silken dress up to dunk her chapped throbbing feet into the bucket of water, and she moans out at the sweet magic it gives to her too tired feet.

She fails to notice how his russet gold eyes darken at the sight of her bare calves.

"What?"

He leans towards her now, curtain of his beautiful long red mane framing his face, and reaches a hand out to touch her forehead.

" _Jesminda_ ," he voice is filled with concern. "You are deathly cold," That concern warms her heart, and she still manages to swat his hand away.

"I'm fine, stop fussing." She tries to get up by herself, but she sways in mid-step from the bucket, and Lucien is there to right her she trips over her own feet. "Alright." She gives up her tough act, as he catches her with ease, and knowing she will regret it in the morning. "I am a bit tired, it's been a long night."

"It has. Let me help you." He shrugs off his robe, and bundles her tightly in it, before scooping her up in her arms as if she weighs little more than an armful of wood. Jesminda doesn't make a peep, she is too relieved to feel his heat, and snuggle into his chest, all worries and dangerous thoughts of what this means are momentarily forgotten.

Lucien clambers unto her bed and rests Jesminda there. He doesn't stay besides, instead he settles down at the foot of the bed, ready to leave, depart to his couch, and Jesminda refuses to let go the warmth of his hand.

"Lucien?"

"Yes."

"Stay with me," Jesminda asks, her voice small and tired.

"You don't mean that." That ingrate smirks as if he knows.

She curses her moment of weakness. "Well fine then!" The cautious and hurt female in her fires back. "If you would rather sleep on the couch be my guest. I was just being nice after getting the bucket and putting up with my drunk ass. If you don't want me nice, that is FINE BY ME!"

 _"Nice?_ You want to be nice to me?" He chuckles, his dirty mind so evident she remembers whom she is talking to.

"Shut up- Lucien. I am too tired to fight with you. I just don't want to be cold tonight, don't get other ideas. If your hand wanders I will kick you where the sun don't shine." His smile grows when she yawns after her threat, and moves back up the bed to her, and she gasps when his arms lock around her waist, pulling her back, and flush to his body as if that was his intent the whole time. No threat flashes thorough her mind when his delicious warmth is everywhere, so heavenly compared to other nights, and all cold and lonely thoughts are burned to a crisp when his even warmer breath tickles her ear.

"As you wish Jesminda. I'll stay," he whispers back, and grazes his lips to her shoulder. "I'll keep you warm."

That is all Jesminda recalls before she falls into a peaceful sleep in Lucien Vanserra's arms.


End file.
